Come What May - L.K. Farlow Page 0,4

an idiot I was being.

“Look, I know you don’t wanna hear this. You’re hurting and angry, and you have every right to be.” She turns into my driveway and throws Bertha into park. “But you need to hear it all the same. It is okay to grieve, to mourn, to miss him. It is not okay to throw your life away. You said it yourself at his funeral, that your daddy always said ‘it’s what you do while you’re alive that matters.’ Well, Seraphine, you’re still alive—act like it.”

In my heart of hearts, I know she is right and speaking from a place of love. Unfortunately, my brain and heart aren’t on the same page. “Thanks for the ride.”

She sighs. “You’re welcome. Take the week off and we’ll go from there.”

“Sure thing.” I unbuckle and throw open the door. “Bye.”

Myla Rose gives me a long, sad look before backing out of the driveway so Cash can park my car. He drops my keys into my waiting hand before climbing into his wife’s car.

They don’t drive away until I’m safely inside, alone once again.

Chapter Two

Seraphine

“Five.” The pungent liquid splashes into my mouth, but I no longer taste it.

“Six.” Another glug brings me that much closer to sweet oblivion.

“Seven.” A bead of amber liquid drips down my chin with my final swallow—one for each day that’s passed since they lowered my dad’s body into the ground.

Once Dad’s beer ran out, I started in on the liquor cabinet. Whatever’s in this bottle—I didn’t even bother to look—makes the beer seem like water. This is my first taste of straight-up alcohol; the first sip had me coughing and sputtering with tears in my eyes. But now, the bottle’s nearly empty, my taste buds are numb, and I’m all cried out.

A painful mash-up of past memories and future wishes race through my foggy mind, out of control, swirling like angry white-water rapids.

I sink farther into the couch as wave after wave of should-haves crash over me. My dad should have lived long enough to see me married. He should have had a whole gaggle of grandbabies to call him Papa. He should have just… been here—too bad all of these should-haves were stolen from me with a mouthful of pills.

My eyelids droop as I give up fighting the current of my thoughts. I’m nearly down for the night when my phone starts vibrating in my back pocket with a notification. I’m half tempted to ignore it—but I don’t.

Lord knows, if it’s one of the girls from the salon, and I ignore them, they’ll call in the calvary to deal with me. I’ve done my best to avoid the concerned trio—evading them with texts full of emojis that hopefully mask the self-destructive path I’m on.

Truly, I’m a mess. A sad, sloppy, angry mess.

Lucky for me, it’s no one. Just a calendar notification. I move to swipe it away, but draw up short at the words on the screen.

No… surely not. I squint and move my phone closer to make sure I’m reading it right.

“Fuck, how could I…” I mumble to myself as I try to sit upright. Clumsily, I double-check the date. But my phone is right. The fair starts tonight, and for the past eighteen years, Dad and I have gone to the opening night.

It’s our little tradition. We’d walk the block to the fairground, kick off the night with a corn dog, ride all of the rides, and end it with cotton candy.

Before I can think better of it, I’m up from the couch, shoving my feet into the first shoes I see, and stumbling out the door.

Looks like tonight, I’ll be carrying out our tradition on my own.

The lights and sounds of the fair wrap around me, the familiarity a much-needed comfort. Even the smells—fried food, cow manure, and bad decisions—put me a little more at ease.

I wander around, taking it all in before finding the courage to kick off the first of what will surely be my new normal—aloneness.

On unsteady feet, with my newly acquired foot-long corn dog in hand, I make my way over to the small food tent. I claim a rickety plastic table and dig in, ready to make the best of things, except the golden-fried goodness tastes like ash in my mouth without Dad here to enjoy it with me.

Instead of arguing over which condiment is supreme, I’m eating in silence, wondering how in the hell it’s possible for the world to keep spinning without Dad here.

My whole